The Meeting

Close to an hour later Bart was still in my room. Talk had ceased some time ago and we were doing little more than staring at one another. To say the situation had rather quickly grown tiresome was an understatement. "Do you intend for us to simply sit here the rest of the night?"

"I intend for you to get on that train tomorrow."

"And I will." Given some things that have happened in the past I don't suppose I could blame Bart for wanting to keep a watch on me, but that didn't mean I liked having a keeper. I'm not a child after all, nor am I completely untrustworthy.

Bart smiled. "I know."

"Without you standing over me all night," I said tensely. I resented the implication that he needed to guard me. There may have been times I would have rabbited away in the night, but I know Bart well enough to know he wasn't in a mood to be trifled with. If I ran, he'd only follow me.

Bart chuckled and actually looked apologetic. "Just trying to remove any temptation you might have to run."

"Believe me, Bart; I'm smart enough to know running wouldn't do me any good. If you followed me this far, you'll do it again." I meant that too. I'd held some vain hope that Bart would see the good sense in my solution and keep the boy in Texas but I'd always known he wouldn't. If he'd been willing to come this far already, he'd be willing to keep right on going.

"I guess we could go get something to eat. You up to it?"

"Why not? It's certainly better than sitting here staring at the walls. Would you object to my changing before we leave?"

Bart shook his head. "Go right ahead."

"Do you have any objection to allowing me to do so without an audience?" Bart looked as though he was going to protest and I sighed heavily. "Really, Bart, do you think I'm going to try to spirit away through the window?"

"I think you could."

"Of course I could, but I won't."

Bart gave me a hard look and I met his gaze head-on. Truly, I didn't have it in me to run any further. Good Lord, what was happening to me? That boy had kept me in turmoil for weeks as it was. Was he now changing how I thought? I discarded the notion as soon as it came to mind. It was Bart keeping me here, not the boy. "If I recall, you threatened to shoot me once if I ran off," I said casually. "I don't doubt the threat remains."

Bart stared at me blankly then broke into a grin as he remembered what I was talking about. "I just might at that."

I grunted in reply. The threat in question was made during one of our first meetings. I had played a part in getting dear brother Bret arrested and Bart was determined I was going to help get him out. He'd said he'd track me down and shoot me if I disappeared on him and for some reason, I'd believed him; I'd also helped get Bret released. Being shot would likely have been more enjoyable but I'd done my part and by the time it was over I'd actually become rather fond of Bart. Now here we were and I was sure Bart would be just as willing to shoot me now as he'd been then; perhaps even more willing.

Bart stood. "Sorry, Dandy, I guess maybe I am being a little heavy-handed. I'll wait for you in the hall."

Once Bart was gone I went about trying to make myself presentable. It had been days since I'd stepped out of my room and therefore days since I'd taken any real care with my appearance but I wasn't going out looking like some commoner. I didn't feel like drawing too much attention to myself so I kept my outfit rather plain by donning a blue and silver brocade vest and black string tie. I finished by slipping on a dark blue coat. Plain, as I said, but elegant.

"Know of any good restaurants?" Bart asked after I joined him again.

"I'm spent most of my time here in my room," I told him. "I'm afraid I'm terribly ill-informed on the local eateries."

"I guess we can ask around downstairs."

"Yes, I'll need to inform them I'll be checking out tomorrow anyway. I'm paid up through the end of the week." I gave Bart a sideways look. "I do hope they'll be kind enough to grant me a refund." Bart made no reply to that and I got the impression he didn't particularly care if I received my money or not.

We went to the front desk where Bart asked about a good restaurant. The young lady told us of a couple that sounded promising and I then informed her I would be checking out in the morning. She assured me I would be reimbursed for the nights I'd already paid for, then she shared a knowing look with Bart.

"Might I assume I have the young lady to thank for disclosing my location to you?" I asked as we left the hotel.

"You may," Bart replied with a smirk.

"You always did have a way of charming the ladies."

"Yes, but I didn't charm her; I appealed to her maternal instincts. Once I told her it involved your son, she was only too happy to tell me where you were."

I grimaced at the word son. After all these weeks it still made me fell ill at ease.

Dinner turned out to be a pleasant enough affair. The food was good, and for the most part, the conversation was tolerable. Bart even ordered a bottle of wine. I didn't know if it was for his benefit or mine, but it was a good selection on his part, full-bodied and not too sweet. Naturally, Bart couldn't let the good times last and as we were finishing up he started speaking of Little Bend and what was waiting for me there. Unfortunately, it wasn't just the boy, but Bart's lovely wife as well. It seemed she wasn't too happy with me at the moment and while I understood, it was still distressing news. She was a charming woman and it had never been my intention to upset her. I'd just have to find some way of making it up to her.

By the time Mrs. Maverick became the topic of conversation; I'd had enough talk and was ready to stare at the walls of my room again. I made the suggestion of retiring to Bart and he thankfully agreed. We were silent as we walked back to the hotel and I stopped Bart at the front door. "There is no need for you to accompany me back up," I said. "I know where my room is and I'm more than capable of meeting you down here in the morning." Bart hesitated and I fought down my irritation telling myself I deserved his distrust. "Bart," I said with a sigh. "I'm not going to run. You have my word."

"Yeah, I remember what happened the last time you gave me your word. It had something to do with a package."

"I believe I gave you my word that I wasn't involving you in anything illegal. And did I?"

"No, but . . . ."

"I'm now giving you my word that I will meet you here at whatever time you choose, ready to accompany you back to Little Bend."

Bart seemed to consider the situation and then nodded. "The train leaves at ten. Let's meet at Eight; we can get breakfast before we leave."

"That's agreeable. Good night." With that, I spun on my heel and hurried inside before Bart could change his mind. Odd as it may seem, I really did plan on leaving with him. I was still hoping I might be able to convince him that the boy would be better off in the Maverick home than with me, but I would at least speak to the child. Besides, convincing Bart he needed to keep the boy would be easier face to face. I needed to make amends with the lovely Doralice as well.

Sleep didn't come easily that night and by dawn, I'd given up trying. It didn't take me long to gather my things and I had no problem being in the lobby at the appointed time. I could tell Bart was surprised when he walked in and saw me waiting, but he smiled.

"Ready?" he asked.

"All my affairs here are completed if that is what you're asking," I replied unwilling to say I was ready. I wasn't ready, but there was nothing keeping me here.

We left my hotel, and what followed was little more than a blur. I truly don't remember much of the journey back to Texas. Bart and I didn't talk much and the boy filled all my thoughts, making me more and more apprehensive the closer out destination became. I tried to tell myself I was being irrational and going back to Little Bend didn't mean I was committing to anything. Meeting the boy, talking to him, didn't mean I was signing my life away. In fact, meeting him was most likely what would be necessary for Bart to agree that my plan had been the best one all along. There just wasn't any way Bart would be able to say the boy would be better off with me once he saw us together. I'm a selfish, untrustworthy drifter. There's no way I could be an even partially decent father. I simply had to find a way to convince Bart of that.

It was late afternoon when we finally arrived in back in Little Bend and I was in no way prepared for a meeting with the boy. I was about to make a case to Bart when he actually suggested we postpone the meeting until the next day. He must have seen my look of surprise because he quickly gave me a reason saying it would better for both me and the boy to be rested before meeting. He also mentioned it had been over a week since he'd seen his wife and daughters so I suspect waiting was for his benefit more than mine.

"You don't have any doubts about me remaining in town if you take your eyes off me?" I asked sarcastically as Bart passed over the key for the room he'd secured for me

"Nah," Bart replied. "If you haven't tried yet, I don't think you will." He flashed me a wicked grin. "But if you think you might have the urge, I can have Bret come keep an eye on you."

I shot Bart a sharp look. "Really, Bart, I thought we were friends."

"Which is why I'm choosing to trust you. That and I know you aren't going to want Doralice any madder at you than she already is."

He had me there; it did pain me to know the dear lady was put out with me. "It's appreciated," I told him honestly. "As is the time you're allowing me to gather my thoughts."

Bart tipped his hat. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jim."

The next several hours consisted of me walking the floor, trying to figure out what on earth I would say to the boy, and wondering just how hard it would be to convince Bart to keep the boy here. Naturally, I received no answers, nor did I have any when Bart knocked on my door about eleven the next day.

"Ready?" he asked for too brightly.

"Not at all."

"He doesn't bite, Jim."

"Perhaps not, but I have very limited knowledge of children and how to deal with them."

"Just talk to him. He wants to meet you."

I grunted noncommittally and led the way out of the hotel, wondering if that were true.

Once outside Bart informed me he'd taken the boy to the saloon. He thought it would be more neutral ground for us, and give us more privacy than his home would. Personally, I didn't care where the meeting took place, but I did feel a moment of alarm when I found out he was at the saloon. "Did you leave him there alone?" I asked. Evan as the question left my lips I wondered why it mattered to me. It was simply out of the question that it had anything to do with any connection the two of us might have.

Bart looked at me, eyebrow raised. "No, Bret's watching him."

"Bret? Your brother Bret?"

Bart grinned. "Jack seems to like him."

I rolled my eyes wondering at the boy's lack of judgment before reminding myself he was still a mere child. One couldn't expect him to be very discerning just yet. Still, one would hope one's child had better taste. I then found out even thinking of my child made my stomach flip; by the time we reached the saloon, I almost felt like having another meeting with my breakfast. This anxiety was a new feeling for me. In my life, I've stood in front of headmasters, landlords, proprietors, women, the old lovers of young ladies, the not so old lovers of young ladies, assorted unscrupulous men looking for money, and my own father, and none of them had affected me this way. How was it possible for a six-year-old boy to make me so nervous?

Once we arrived Bart went to his office to prepare the boy for me and Bret came strolling out. I considered his appearance to be the perfect way to round out the morning and judging from his eye roll and an exasperated sigh he felt the same. "Buckley," he greeted stiffly. "I see he finally managed to drag you back."

I smiled at him brightly, something I knew would irritate him. "I'm sure you'll be disappointed to know there was very little dragging involved. I agreed to come back and I was even allowed to stay by myself last night, just like a big boy."

"Yeah, well, Bart's always had a bad habit of bein' too trustin'."

"And yet here I stand," I replied with a smirk. "Waiting to do exactly what I told him I would do from the beginning."

That seemed to throw the elder Maverick off and he sent me a glare before pushing past me and stalking off towards the barroom. I allowed myself to feel some satisfaction at running him off, but it was short-lived. As soon as Bart reopened the door to his office I felt that knot settle again. Steeling myself, I stepped into the room and found the boy over by the sofa in the corner. Frankly, I wasn't prepared for what I saw. One look and any remaining doubt I had that this child had come from my loins vanished. Bart was right; he did look like me. It was nearly like looking in a mirror.

"Jim," Bart said taking my arm and all but pushing me across the room. "This is Jack." I think he said something else as well but I was too caught up looking at the boy to pay attention to it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jasper," I said, pleased my voice was steady. I held out my hand and he eyed it uncertainly before reaching for it.

"Jack," he said softly.

"Sorry, what?"

"Mama called me Jack." He sort of smiled. "She only called me Jasper when she was mad."

I tried to smile myself. "I understand the sentiment. Often times at home I was only called James when someone was angry. I'm certainly not angry with you so would it be alright if I called you Jack?"

The boy nodded and I was reminded of the portrait my mother had insisted my siblings and I sit for when I'd been a boy. I had been about his age too, if I remember right. That thought didn't help me know what to say next, however. I glanced back at Bart hoping for some help, but he'd already left the room. He'd said the boy and I needed time alone, but I hadn't thought he'd disappear so quickly. It seemed I was on my own after all.

"Shall we sit down?" I asked motioning towards the sofa. Again all I got was a nod but the boy sat and I did likewise. "Jack," I said once I was seated. "I'm . . . well, I'm your . . . ."

"I know who you are," Jack said softly.

"I apologize it took me so long to get here."

The boy just shrugged. "Why are you here?"

"Sorry?"

The boy finally looked back up at me, and this time his eyes were full of sadness. "Mama told me about you."

That knot in my stomach grew. "She did, eh. What did she tell you?" I wasn't sure he could have been told anything a boy his age actually needed to hear.

"She said you . . . she said you couldn't stay with us, that you wouldn't be coming back to see us."

"I see."

"So why are you here now?"

"Well, I did come to see you."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "It's nice to meet you."

To be frank I'd hoped for something a little more than that but I don't suppose I could fault him for being less than enthused to see me. "It's nice to meet you too, Jack. Your mother may have given you information about me but I was never told about you."

"Mama's dead," he said softly.

"Yes, I know. I was very sorry to hear about that."

The boy looked at me again and to my absolute horror, I saw his eyes wet with tears. I didn't know what I would do if the boy were to actually start crying. Once again I cursed that Bart had darted out of the room. I don't know how much experience he's had with children, but I know it's more than me. Thankfully, the boy composed himself rather quickly and "I miss her," was all he said.

"I'm sure you do. Mothers are very special to boys."

He sighed heavily then. "Am I goin' with you when you leave?"

That was the question everyone was asking, wasn't it? "Is that what you want?"

Another shrug and I'll admit to being disappointed he hadn't said no. I knew what Bart wanted, but surely he couldn't object to keeping Jack if it was what the boy wanted. No matter what Bart claimed, no one could really believe the boy would be better off with me.

"Mama talked about you a lot," the boy said.

"Did she?" I was surprised. I won't say I never thought of Lenora. I did, and quite often. A man simply doesn't forget a woman like Lenora, and I'd hoped she hadn't forgotten about me. I do have my pride after all, and one likes to think one leaves an impression, but I never would have guessed I'd left that kind of impression. Then I looked back to the boy and realized I'd left her with much more than an impression. With a daily living reminder of our time together, it was only natural for Lenora to talk. But what had she said?

"Sometimes I think she wished you would come to see us."

"I . . . I didn't know that." That statement was almost as big a surprise as the boy sitting across from me. Lenora had all but told me to leave when I had. Not that I had desired to stay permanently, but I might have stayed longer if Lenora hadn't encouraged me to move on. She claimed in her letter she hadn't wanted me to know about the boy before and I could almost understand that. Even I can't say how I would have reacted to the news of a child had I found out under other circumstances. Perhaps it was easier for Lenora to think kindly of me if she kept me ignorant of the fact she was carrying my child.

"Would you have come to see us if you'd known?" Jack pressed giving me a hard look.

"Well . . . yes, I suppose so." Who knows whether I would have or not, I highly doubted it, but I couldn't expect the boy to understand that. Yes seemed like the safe answer even if it wasn't the truth.

An uncomfortable silence settled between us and I had no idea what else to say. Meanwhile, Jack looked around the room biting his lip. "Can-can I go outside now?" he asked at length.

"Yes, if you'd like."

The boy all but sighed with relief and practically ran out the door. I guess the meeting was as nerve-racking for him as it was for me.

Scarcely had the boy left before I heard a knock on the day and Bart appeared. "Everything okay?"

"Of course," I said as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. One thing I can do is lie.

"Oh, I saw Jack run out. I thought somethin' might have happened."

I gave him a wan smile. "I think he was rather in a hurry to exit."

Bart nodded. "Any problems?"

"None at all," I told him as I stood. "I just don't think he was particularly comfortable with me." No more than I was with him it seemed.

"Like father like son, huh?"

I looked at Bart sharply, the words too closely mirroring my own thoughts, even if I wouldn't have used those particular familial terms. "Merely a matter of us both being unprepared for the other." The meeting had been . . . I wasn't really sure what it had been. Then again I wasn't sure I'd expected either. So the boy hadn't wanted to be alone with me, I couldn't blame him and it all would have been just as awkward if he'd wanted some sappy father/son moment.

Bart sighed. "Jim, I think it's time we had a serious talk about all this. That little boy's been waiting for you for weeks now."

"I know."

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

"You're still of the opinion he'd be better off with me?"

"With his father? Yes. I can take care of him, but I'm not his father."

"And what makes you believe I can be?"

"What makes you so sure you can't?"

I scoffed wondering why Bart felt he even needed to ask. "I never had any plans to be a father."

"Then why'd you accept him?"

"As soon as I discover why you'll be the first to know."

"Well, you better decide what you're gonna do about it. See that boy out there's been waiting for his daddy, and I think his daddy owes him an explanation."

"Yes, well, I'll bear that in mind."

"I mean it, Jim. If you decide to run like a coward, you're gonna have to look him in the eye and tell him about it, because I won't. And if you run off again, I'll just drag you right back. Or just bring along to start with."

I looked at the man I'd always considered a friend and wondered if I'd done something in the past he felt I needed to pay me for. That was the only logical reason I could come up with for his insistence I keep the boy. He couldn't believe I was really capable of doing this. "I'd like some time to think. If you don't mind." Bart looked at me suspiciously and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "For the last time, I have no intentions of leaving."

Bart finally nodded. "Alright. If I'm not here, I'll be at the house."

"I remember where it is."

Bart started to leave and then turned back around. "Supper's at 6, if you'd like to join us."

"All of you?" I asked wondering if that meant the boy as well.

"All of us," Bart replied with a smile. "You might as well; you're going to have to get used to him sooner or later."

"What a charming thought. I'll see you at six."

"Hey, Dandy," Bart called as I was leaving. "The river's a pretty nice spot to think. At least it always has been for me."

I could tell Bart was being sincere and I truly appreciated the gesture. I smiled and tipped my hat. "Thanks, old boy." With that, I headed out to see if the river was as kind to me as she was Bart.